Rules
by mysinfulamadeo
Summary: Schuldig breaks the rules but Nagi gets in trouble when a very interesting picture appears on his computer.
1. Chapter 1

The members of Schwartz had rules to abide by which, when you considered their leader, was not the least bit surprising. These rules were unwritten, unspoken, mostly because there was no need to acknowledge them. When you lived as closely as these four men did you learned quickly what ground was safe to tread on, and what could easily earn you a week stay in the Rosenkruez infirmary.

Farferello had learned that you don't spout cryptic death threats laced with theology and superstition at Brad Crawford before he's had his morning cup of coffee. Schuldig later amended the rules by proving it was best of you simply didn't talk to Crawford before the aforementioned cup of coffee.

Schuldig had also learned that the rule about letting sleeping dogs lie, applied to sleeping Farfies too, when he made the grave mistake of trying to wake the Irishman for a mission. The hard working and compassionate employees at Rosenkreuz informed him that 'yes they would be happy to pull his teammates knife from his stomach, just as soon as he explained how it had gotten there in the first place'.

Brad Crawford had taken the liberty of demonstrating just how much Nagi valued his privacy when he had opened the door to complain about certain children locking the only shower (what not all jobs could be as glamorous as Takatori), and come face to face with a very naked, and very angry telepath. Nagi's small frame shook with embarrassment, but his narrowed eyes burned with hatred; one look into those eyes and Brad Crawford knew that he was utterly and completely fucked. Nagi hadn't even bothered to visit him back at the facility, but Schuldig had. Apparently the walls surrounding them were very strong because going through two of them had nearly broken Crawford's back.

It was because of this incident that Nagi was certain Brad Crawford had not been the man on his computer. Crawford had an override key, and could have easily gotten in, but didn't and Nagi knew it.

Farferello spent most of his life trapped in his mind, which according to Schuldig was a swirling vortex of philosophers, faith, sacrificed lambs, and many other disturbing things no telepath should be subjected to. Nagi would bet anything he couldn't even find the power button.

That left only one man. One man who had searched Nagi's computer then had the audacity to leave it on. One man who had apparently run scared since the German was nowhere to be found. Nagi pulled a book from the shelf and stretched across his bed. He wasn't worried; Schuldig had to come home some time after all, as did Crawford.

Wide brown eyes sparkled with sadistic glee as the German's hands flew across the keyboard. He was breaking the rules, and yes the chibi would know it was him, and so what if the thought of facing Crawford later did make his hands shake slightly, not that he was nervous or anything. None of that mattered though. He was going to find dirt on the chibi, something juicy that he could humiliate the boy with for years to come. The mental image of the boy running from the room with pink cheeks and wild eyes at the mention of say, an adult website was enough to make Schuldig burst into hysterical laughter. Oh this would be worth any beating Brad Crawford could dish out and then some.

The gaijin's eyes grew impossibly larger as he stared at the picture before him. Well, at least now the chibi couldn't dodge all the not so subtle jabs Schuldig made as to his preference. The chibi had just been flung by his hair out of the proverbial closet, along with the redhead hovering over him. The picture was blurry, and the man's features were impossible to make out, but given the height, build, and rather intimate way he was joined to the chibi, there was no mistaking his gender. Oh the fun he would have once he figured out how to work the stupid printer thingy. Schuldig scrolled through picture by picture hoping to find a more embarrassing pose or depraved kinky toys or something to really knock them off there feet. Then...he saw it.

And for once in his entire 22 years of life, Schuldig was rendered speechless. His hands hovered over the keyboard, not really pressing but just gently stroking the keys under his fingers. The position was the same as in all the other pictures, and some distant part of his mind suggested having a nice long talk with the chibi about creativity; creativity, the sadistic and therefore much larger portion of his brain argued, was not really important now.

After finding and clicking the mysterious little print button, Schuldig leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes in bliss. In his mind he could still see it. The picture was a crystal clear image of the Chibi on his back, legs spread wide like some filthy back alley whore, with his head thrown back in ecstasy. His pale neck was stretched and covered in bright pink bite marks, his back was arched so high that only his butt and head managed to touch the floor, and his thighs...were wrapped around no other than Aya Fujimiya. Yes the hands that gently brushed the black sweat soaked hair back from the boy's face or ran trails up and down his sides, the lips kissing his cheek so tenderly it made Schuldig want to vomit, it all belonged to the infamous little Abyssinian, guide to lost kittens, keeper of flowers, and currently very high up on Schuldig's list of people to kill.

He crossed the room to retrieve the photo and smirked once more. As he covered his trail through Nagi's computer Schuldig had only one thought going through his mind 'this was just too perfect'. He closed his windows, but left the computer on, he wanted the chibi to know he had been here. Wanted him to worry about what Schuldig might have found and what he might do with it. He wanted the boy terrified. As for himself?

Ha. Forget secrecy and lies and dodging Crawford, because he had a feeling that once Brad had a peek at this, all of the blame, and the unholy wrath that came with it was going to shift from his shoulders to the boys' very rapidly indeed.

Brad Crawford's frame, all six foot of it, was shaking rather violently. His eyes burned with raw fury that was, for once, not directed at Schuldig. The team, well all the members of the team that weren't facing a most certain and painful death were gathered around the table. "Where did you get this Schuldig" Brad said in a low biting tone that sent a shiver up the German's spine. "Bradley baby" Schuldig cooed "if I told you that it would ruin the anticipation. You're new at this so let me tell you how it works. You vent and fume and stomp about in a rage while I listen to your plans for Nagi and bask in the greatness that is being the most cunning bastard alive. Then you...".

Schuldig didn't ever get to say what Crawford was supposed to do next, because Crawford's hand was around his neck, pinning him to the wall and squeezing and from this angle he could look right in Brad Crawford's eyes and dear god if that wasn't the scariest thing he had ever seen he didn't know what was. "I don't have the patience for your dramatics right now do you understand me?" Schuldig nodded in the affirmative then proceeded to give every detail that led up to him printing the picture, excluding of course the part where his hands most definitely did not shake.

This seemed to appease Brad who released the German's throat. Farf sat in his chair calmly observing the whole exchange, as he had many times before. Truth be told he thought they were the strangest pair he had ever seen. Well, except for maybe the two men in the picture Brad was holding. So the lamb had found himself a kitten to cuddle up with, except the kitten was more a lion than anything else. A lion and a lamb...lamb...lion...

Crawford and Schuldig simultaneously abandoned there fight in favor of staring at Farferello, who had started chuckling suddenly. They were both still staring blankly for many minutes after the laughter had stopped "We have a feisty kitten moving in on our little lamb" said Farf quietly "I think we need to remind them both where they belong". Realization dawned for Brad Crawford and for the first time in many years he felt certain that he and Farferello were thinking the same thing.

Schuldig looked to Crawford, then Farf, then back to Crawford. The evil grin slowly making its way across Brad's face just proved how badly he needed that vacation Schu had mentioned to him. Taking after Farferello, even in something as simple as facial expressions, didn't say much for your mental state. He breathed a sigh of relief as Crawford took his glasses off to polish them on his shirt; mostly because the familiar gesture proved he was still at least partially sane, but also because it was a clear signal to all who knew him that the situation was under control. 

"Farferello" Brad said as he lifted the spectacles to his face "I think you may have come up with a perfect plan"

Back in his room Nagi was sleeping, completely unaware of the turn his life was about to take.

Hands. Oh god. The hands were everywhere. Warm and rough but soothing as they rubbed over his stomach. Lower. Please please let them go lower and he arched and he must have said it aloud because that deep scratchy laughter surrounded him. If only he could see. But he couldn't see because it was black, but that didn't matter because _he_ could see. Nagi felt the eyes burning across his chest and stomach and thighs and his cock jolted at the feeling but it wasn't enough. It was never enough. It was bliss and torture when those lips descended on first one nipple, then the other, laving and sucking and he thrust against the hard thigh which had just settled itself against his groin and he was sobbing because surely this was heaven. Tears poured down his cheeks only to be chased away by a skillful tongue seconds later and the pleas that were falling from his lips like a prayer were so strained even he didn't no what they meant except that he needed it, he couldn't come without it, then there it was. The hot blunt tip thick and throbbing against his opening and then it was in him and filled him and he realized how wrong he had been in thinking of heaven. This was hell. They were both in hell and there was no devil with horns and a spiked tail. There was only heat, and skin, and _him..._

Nagi awoke in the clasp of an orgasm so strong it made his toes curl up and a moan fell from his opened lips. And when it was over and he was spent he lay panting and sobbing. He didn't look up as he floated his mess past the bed and into the garbage. He simply burrowed deeper into the blankets and hid beneath his pillow. Nagi peaked out at the clock. **4:00**. He still had an hour or too to doze and sulk before he was expected to be out. Plenty of time.


	2. Chapter 2

Ran Fujimiya, although he rarely thought of himself as Ran these days, had a fairly good life. You wouldn't think it to see his scowl as he angrily chopped the new shipment of baby's breath to shreds, but it was true. Okay, so his parents had been murdered, his name was besmirched, his sister in a coma, and he was currently sharing a flat above a flower shop with three other men. Three of the most nerve grinding, impossible, irritating men he had ever met. An ex-detective who could track a person all across the world but couldn't step on the balcony to smoke, a soccer coach who aimed perfectly unless he was trying to piss _in_ the toilet which was apparently beyond his capabilities, and a chibi who masturbated far too frequently for his own well being yet still hadn't discovered the joys of pillow biting which might allow his teammates to get some sleep as well. 

Omi was by far the most annoying of the three and many a time Aya had been so tempted to stuff a sock in the boy's mouth and tape his lips shut. Aya refrained, partially because Omi might cry and Aya wasn't entirely certain he could handle that, but mostly because it would anger Ken which would open a whole new set of problems. For some reason the soccer player was unusually protective of Omi, and they could be seen whispering back and forth on the couch or in the shop all the time. Aya thought the closeness was strange but then again Ken did choose to spend all his time with kids so it only made since that he would be like a big brother to Omi.

Okay, so maybe great wasn't the word. His life was just...strained. You see, people commonly make the mistake of believing Aya is frowning, when he is in fact concentrating, or attempting to, on how wonderful his life is right now, which takes a good deal of effort since so few good things happen to him...thus all the frowning. He did have a good thing though, a really big good thing, or more literally a very very small chibi sized good thing named Nagi. How everything had happened was still a little confusing, and to this day Aya wasn't sure who had really approached whom. He kept meaning to bring it up, but their time together was rushed and when you had those warm lips pressed against yours, those smooth pale thighs circling around your hips, and only an hour to enjoy them, talking seemed like the stupidest idea.

So he was confused. He didn't mind really, because confusion was such a low price to pay for the way long fingers gripped his hair just so when he pressed his tongue to that smooth down covered abdomen, and the way his name fell from those lips over and over again. Aya Aya Aya...

"AYA!" Oh God it was the chibi. Aya groaned in frustration and calmly set the shears down and slid them across the table so that if he did decide to go in for the kill at long last at least the boy would have a chance to run. He opened his eyes to face the inevitable; sure enough, there they were. Those bright blue eyes were wide and brimming with tears at the annoyance on Aya's face. How he wondered had a 17 year old boy perfected the kicked puppy dog look. He schooled his face into a mask of calm curiosity, and then closed his ears as the boy began speaking. Omi took a deep breath before he began and it took all of Aya's self-restraint not to reach for the shears. This would take a while.

When he laid down in bed that night Aya was still trying desperately to block the little of Omi's rant he had managed to hear. Basically Omi had yelled at him for killing the flowers and being mean, Ken had yelled at him for making Omi yell, and Yohji had blown cigarette smoke in his face to be funny. Aya didn't think he was funny at all. When he went in the back room to put the shears away, unfortunately he hadn't cut anyone's head off with them, Omi and Ken were talking. Omi got all flustered, and was still so angry with him that he wouldn't meet Aya's eyes. Ken muttered something about helping Omi put his contact in, but Omi didn't wear contacts. How stupid did these people think he was? Aya knew exactly what was going on. Omi and Ken had been whispering about him. It did seem somewhat strange that Ken had his arms wrapped around Omi, but he was probably just trying to steady the wobbly shelf Omi was sitting on.

He didn't care, let them talk. In a few days he would pay Nagi a visit, and it was with that thought in mind that he drifted off to sleep. 

Meanwhile...

Schuldig and Brad were standing outside of the Koneko. The back alley was filthy, and reeked of rotting flowers, but Schuldig was pinned between the wall and Brad's chest with a hot moist mouth on his adams apple so he didn't complain. He was torn between the desperate need to rub himself off on Crawford's thigh, and the fear that Crawford would magically transform into the heartless American bastard who fucked at 2 cm an hour until you screamed then laughed in your face, just to remind you who was in charge. The German decided it was worth the chance and slowly ground down onto the warm cloth covered thigh between his legs, and Brad Crawford's head snapped up. 'Oh big big mistake.' The German saw stars as his face was pushed into the brick wall which had been behind him only seconds before. Large rough hands tugged his pants down over his hips, exposed his ass to the cool night air, but leaving all of, what were in his opinion the important bits, trapped. A quick kiss to his neck and next thing he knew Schuldig had Brad Crawford, all 11 inches of him seated firmly inside of him. God he loved this. He almost wished an elderly woman or a small child or maybe even the Weiss chibi would happen along, just so they could be scarred for life. Well actually, he wasn't to sure about the Omi boy. For all his seeming naivety, he and the Weiss soccer fanatic were awfully close.

Ten minutes later with 11 inches of cock inside him, Crawford's teeth sunk into his shoulder, and an image of Omi being reamed until he passed out by a very dirty soccer coach, Schuldig came. Although truthfully had had better recently, the splattering of white he wiped on Brad's shirt after cleaning his pants more than made up for it.

"Schuldig" Crawford said, calmly zipping his pants, "we should hurry. You know what Farferello can be like when he's made to wait."

By the time Nagi woke again it was dark. After much hesitation he drug himself from the warm inviting bed, and down the hall towards the kitchen area. The kitchen was the most unnerving room in the whole apartment; Well, second most if you counted Farf's room, but Nagi didn't really, because while the man himself was very much a part of Schwartz, his bedroom was so _strange_ that it felt completely removed from everyone else. With someone of Farferello's mental...instability around, you expected things like eyeballs in jars under the bed, or bloody knifes lying about, but that wasn't what his room was like at all. The Irishman's room was (Nagi wanted to shudder at the word) normal.

All of his many weapons were carefully stowed away in what Schuldich had lovingly deemed the "playroom", along with bits and a straight-jacket or two, and although Nagi knew he killed for amusement in his spare time, apparently Farf didn't bother with keeping trophies, because their were never random peices of flesh or organs lying about. He remembered being a small boy, about 11 years old, and seeing that bedroom for the first time. He had spoken with Irishman very little during his few weeks as a member of Schwartz, and was completely unprepared for the soft blue bed that was perfectly made, or the light cream color of the walls, but the most shocking thing of all were the books. There were cherrywood bookshelves lining the walls, all packed with books. Nagi felt certain that the other boy had more books than anyone else on the team, except perhaps Crawford-san whose room he had been forbidden from entering except while under direct orders to do so from Crawford himself. That had been before Nagi had learned that Brad Crawford didn't read. Their leader would look over the occasional file or two sent from Essett, but no longer bothered to pick up a novel, as he usually predicted the outcome before the first chapter ended.

But for a boy used to living a vagrant life, this many books in one room was bliss. Nagi had gone close to read the titles, thinking that perhaps it would make more sense if they were volumes on making bombs or accounts of famous serial killers, but no they weren't. Instead there were volumes on every topic: philosophy, astronomy, divination, religion, history, politics, poetry, mathematics, hobbies, and lauguage. And these books weren't just written in Nagi's native Japanese, mind you, or the very confusing German which he had been forced to learn during his 4 year stay in Rosenkruez. No, these were books from France, Italy, Greece, China, Russia, and even some more modern radical works from the big cities of America. Nagi had been shaken from his reverie, when Farferello (who was at this point siting lotus style on these bed, looking serene as any yoga student) commented, in German, that if Nagi were going to work on his language skills, which he strongly suggested the boy do, that he work on Italian or Spanish, because English was very poorly constructed and very slow to learn. The mental image of Farferello doing something as common as reading during his lucid hours had unnerved Nagi at first, but forced him to look at the Irishman differently from that day on.

Assuming though, that you didn't know Farferello, or for some reason could not fathom why such an ordinary room was frightening, then the kitchen won. It was blindingly white, from the gleaming floor tiles to the sparkling ceiling, and clean to the piont of being sterile. No one except Crawford seemed to enjoy the room very much, and usually if you went to grab food, it was done very quickly.

It was this monstrocity of a room that Nagi had been walking to when Farferello reached out, and layed his hand on Nagi's shoulders. Once again, like the bedroom, this might seem a normal enough occurance to a stranger, but anyone who knew Farferello knew how dangerous it was. Touching meant keen intrest on his part, and intrest could eaily lead to obsession, which almost always led to mutilation. Trying his best to come up with a quick save Nagi began mentally screaming for Schuldig to come out of his room and help.

"Their not here you know, so there's no point in trying to call him". Sometimes the Irishman's ability to read people was as accurate as Schuldich's, and also just as frightening.

When he backed away, causing the hand to fall from his shoulder and sort of slide down his upper chest Farferello made no move to stop him, but smiled one of those small crooked smiles that said he knew something you didn't. Farferello had smiled like that the night they had brought Nagi to live with them, and again when he had seen Nagi sneek out one night against Crawford orders. That smile was as sure a sign of trouble as Schuldig's stupid little cackle. "Where are they Farf? How long are they gone for?", he asked, and the smile grew wider, though whether it was from the actual question, or the crack in his voice Nagi couldn't tell. "Oh just out, Crawford had an errand to take care of and whore wanted to tag along. They won't be back for quite some time. You should sleep". Nagi nodded his assent and hurried to his room as fast as he could walking backwards. It amused the man, and he knew it did, but he wasn't going to risk turning his back on Farferello while they were alone. Once he was back safely in his room Nagi bolted the door and put his heaphones back on. If anyone tried to come through the door he would hear it headphones or no, but if Farferello was going to hover outside his room, he didn't want to hear it. With that last thought, he lay back and let the music pull him under.

Aya awoke suddenly. He had heard a noise, he was sure of it. There was someone in his room. If Omi had come back to have another one of those midnight heart to hearts the boy was so fond of Aya would strangle him. he opened his eyes to a dark room where a figure stood beside his bed. Before Aya could reach for his Katana something struck the back of his head, hard, and Aya fell back on the pillow. The last thing he remembered seeing was a shock of bright orange in the darkness.

Schuldich smiled as Farferello opened the door for them. He smiled wider as the Irishman talked about the boy running into him before he had left to come here. So the chibi was scared? Good, he should be. Crawford dropped the pale figure over his shoulder on the floor. Even without a telekinetic there was really no need to tie the man down, and it was so much more fun when you could watch them run. He gently stroked the other man's mind, taking a few minutes to try and wake him, because Crawford had hit him very hard after all. The violet eyes blinked a few times, before widening in shocked recognition. Schuldig delighted in all the horrible tortures the redhead's mind conjured. A wide smirk split the German's face. There little kitten had no idea what was in store for him.


	3. Chapter 3

"Ummm...yes...harder...please harder...so good, so fucking good...ahhh" crash!

The larger man on the bed froze mid-thrust, while the smaller figure beneath him ground himself upwards, in a pitiful attempt to reengage his partner's interest. Ken detached himself from the small body beneath him, and climbed off the bed. "Omi, did you just hear a..."

"No! Now come back!" Omi commanded, directing a very angry pout in Ken's direction when he turned to face the bed. For a minute the idea of crawling back between those sheets and letting himself slide back inside that warm glistening body seemed a very good idea indeed, but still he hesitated.

"It sounded like it came from Aya's room. Maybe I should just slip a robe on and go check on him" he replied, tying the sash of his robe and moving towards the door.

"Ken-kunnnnnnnnn" it was a low keening noise somewhere between a whine and a plea, but it turned his attention back to the bed, which was all it took. The little imp was on his knees, one hands brushing sweat soaked bangs back from his face, and the other stroking himself rhythmically. Those blue eyes staring into him were glazed with lust and brighter than ever. "Now take that robe off and get back here or I'll go to my room and finish alone" Omi said softly, sparing a mischievous smile when the robe hit the floor.

"Are you scared kitten?" The redhead hovering over him cooed.

Well if that wasn't the dumbest question. Of course he was scared, he was terrified. Aya Fujimiya is a brave man, not a masochist, and contrary to popular belief there is a difference between the two. What frightened him the most at the moment really wasn't the American, who Aya already knew he couldn't beat in a fight, or the Irish lunatic gazing lustfully at the blade in his hand. Hell, it wasn't even the freakishly-tall red-head who somehow always knew what you were thinking. What scared Aya the most was that he was unrestrained.

If your enemies tied you down when they captured you it was usually a good sign. Ropes made it harder to escape true, but they proved you had a chance of escape, because if there was no way for you to get out, what was their reason for tying you down in the first place? That was the problem. These three men, three men who knew Aya was a deadly assassin, had shut themselves in a room with him, and given him a chance to fight. That move spoke of confidence; it spoke of power, and for the first time in many years Aya was scared; not for his team, or his sister, but for himself. The only advantage he had was that he was faced with the cocky German, and not the American bastard who was standing across the room. Though the other two men were a bit intimidating, they were nothing he couldn't handle. Something about the American man though, the way his eyes glanced over you briefly, unimportantly, like he knew something you didn't; something that made you weaker than him; he looked at you like he knew your future, and simply didn't care about it.

Schuldig tried hard not to laugh, a difficult feat when one was privy to all of the highly amusing thoughts running through the kitten's mind. Ahh...so it was Crawford he feared? Wasn't that interesting. But the idea of Farf being just another lunatic...that wouldn't do at all. He sent everything he heard through the link to Crawford, with his own additions of course.  
_'You hear that Brad, he thinks we might be crazy. Not that he's completely off mind you'_  
**'I'm not crazy'**  
_'Didn't say you were. Neither did he really'_  
**'He thinks I'm the sane one?'**  
_'Yeah he does. It scares the shit out of him too.'_  
**'Stop smirking, Schuldig'**  
_'I'm not'_  
**'Yes you were, and now you're pouting. I can feel it'**  
_'You can't feel a smirk _Bradley_, or a pout for that matter'_  
**'Schuldig I could pick you out of a crowded room by your smirk'**  
_'Awww that's so sweet'_  
**'Of course I would never need too. You're god-awful red hair could serve as a lighthouse beacon'**  
_'Fuck you. Fuck you very much.'_  
**'Later perhaps. If I'm feeling generous.'**  
_'Ha fucking ha. Now what about the kitten oh exalted one.'_  
**'Let Farf break him in. After all, I am the scariest, and we don't want to do him in before the fun starts.'**  
_'Yes oh great and wise Master. I'll hand him over to our mad Irish friend so as not to over excite the kitten. I couldn't possibly have a go at him as I'm still quaking in fear from your powerful display of masculinity'_  
**'Master huh? I like that. From now on you will address me as Master Crawford.'**  
_'Still Shaking'_  
**'You will be'**  
_'Hey'_

_'Crawford'_

_'Oh Strong Manly Master Crawford Sir'_  
**'WHAT?'**  
_'You have some of my come on your shoulder'_  
**'Fuck you very much'**  
_'Later perhaps. If I don't have a headache'_

_'So are you giving Farf the first go or what?'_

Crawford flashed him a secretive little smile and inclined his head towards Farf. Schuldig smiled back and sent Farf a little message of his own. The Irishman stretched took a few steps forward and knelt beside Aya.

"The door across the room is unlocked. All exits to the outside are bolted shut. I'm giving you 30 seconds, so I hope you're fast", Farf whispered to the man on the floor. Aya looked from the shining blade to the madman then back again. With one last glance across the room to where Crawford was standing the red-head bolted for the door.

Farferello stayed on his knees and calmly began counting backwards from thirty.

Schuldig watched joyfully as Aya ran from the room, then a minute later as Farf followed him through the door. So the Irishman liked to catch his prey, there was no harm in that. Besides, Farferello wouldn't start the fun stuff until Schuldig and Crawford were there. That was the rule.

He had lasted longer than most men, even men in his line of work, but from the moment Aya Fujimiya had taken off, the men of Schwartz knew it was a lost cause. No one got away if Farferello wanted to catch them, which was why when Schuldig and Brad walked into the room, the red-haired man was already naked and pinned beneath their teammate. Without looking up or bothering to acknowledge them in any way, Farferello began. The Irishman welded his knives in much the same way that an artist might wield a charcoal pencil. Drawing thin lines which cut through nerves and skin without ever delving into the flesh below.

The blade cut across fingers and biceps, and even circled both of his nipples, before delving lower. The redhead had his eyes closed, not tightly, but calmly. Laying there with all those lovely welts and slices turning a deep red, the man looked peaceful, almost as if he were ignoring them. That wouldn't do at all. The red lines running down the man's pale chest all joined in one hoop to circle his navel, then without hesitation Farferello placed the tip of the blade at the very base of Aya's soft member, and slid it straight to the tip, drawing a scream from the assassin. The cut was razor thin, but it served its purpose. Those violet eyes were now wide in shock, brimming with tears of pain as they stared right into the one golden eye before them.

Without breaking eye contact, Farferello reached down to his holster, pulling out another knife, the size of a very small ice pick, but razor sharp. He dropped the larger blade and used his now free hand to roughly lift one of the pale thighs up and over, and shoved the blade past the initial muscles and inside the man beneath him. The sound that followed was a howl so desperate and inhuman that even Schuldig flinched when it reached his ears. Crawford, however, watched on unmoved as Farf began slowly thrusting the knife in and out of the bloody passage, then leaned over and began lapping up the blood. The Irishman's hand never stilled as his tongue traveled over pale arms and chest, and when he reached the man's navel where the blood had gathered in a little pool he drank that as well. He even licked away the thin ribbon of red along the soft cock, then threw his bloody knife to the floor and delved down to taste that blood as well. Farf lapped eagerly at the thin layer of blood coating the hole, before delving his tongue inside to suck most of that blood away as well.

Standing, with his back still turned to his team; Farferello wiped his mouth and smiled down at the bloody broken figure beneath him. He reached down to gather his knives, and laughed coldly at the whimper that escaped the man on the floor as Crawford walked over to take his place.


End file.
